The Invisible Work of Holding Mothers

When people think about support for mothers, they often think about practical things first.

Feeding support. Sleep advice. Appointments. Milestones.

And those things matter deeply.

But one thing I have come to realise through working as a midwife, building Breastfeeding with Abigail, and creating Matrescence CIC is that many women are not simply looking for information.

They are looking for somewhere to put everything they are carrying.

Motherhood can be intensely isolating, even when you are never physically alone. Women are often surrounded by noise, needs and responsibilities, yet quietly grieving parts of themselves they no longer recognise.

There is an unspoken expectation that mothers should cope. That exhaustion is normal. That struggling emotionally is simply part of the job. That if a woman is keeping the baby fed, attending appointments and managing daily life, then she must be doing okay.

But surviving is not the same as being supported.

I have sat with women who apologised before crying. Women who whispered things they had never said out loud before. Women who admitted they felt lonely despite being constantly needed. Women who missed who they used to be and felt guilty for saying it.

And I think one of the hardest things about matrescence is that many women experience it silently.

Not because they have nothing to say, but because they fear judgement. Fear seeming ungrateful. Fear being seen as failing.

The reality is that identity change can feel messy. Becoming a mother can bring joy and grief at the same time. Love and resentment. Connection and loneliness. Confidence and complete uncertainty.

Two things can exist together.

I think that is why community matters so much.

Not community in the polished social media sense, but real community. Spaces where women can arrive tired, emotional, uncertain or overwhelmed and still feel welcomed. Spaces where nobody has to pretend they are coping perfectly.

Some of the most meaningful moments at Matrescence gatherings have not been planned activities or conversations led by professionals. They have been the quieter moments afterwards. Women staying behind talking while children play nearby. Someone saying, “I thought it was just me.” The visible relief when another mother nods in understanding.

There is something incredibly powerful about being witnessed honestly.

I believe maternal wellbeing is not only shaped by healthcare systems, but by connection. By whether women feel seen. By whether they have people around them who allow them to be human.

That is part of what I hope Matrescence CIC can continue to become.

Not just a support group. Not just an event. But a reminder to women that they were never meant to carry all of this alone.